Being Sick Isn't So Bad
by ILOVESiriusB.HarryP.SalazarS
Summary: Sam (Sammy) Winchester get's sick, and his older brother Dean Winchester has to take care of him. Dude, I really can't write summaries. It's about two sick brothers who do non-brotherly things. Kissing, implied other things ;) Wincest Wee!cest Yay! Please Review! Very very fluffy Oneshot complete


Okay! This idea just popped in my head when I woke up this morning because I was sick and in pain and ya. THIS IS WINCEST actually, they're young so it's Wee!cest.

I don't own Supernatural or the characters, if I did, Sammy-boy and Dean-o would be kissing their hearts away the whole time.

**DEAN IS 18 AND SAM IS 14 (**they're not together yet, but by the end they shall be**)**

"Hey Sammy. How're you doing?" Dean asked his little brother who was currently laying on the couch, shirtless, a blanket covering half his naked chest. Sweat covered his neck and his eyes looked dead. It was his first time getting strep throat, and he was not prepared for the pain of swallowing.

"It hurts De." Sam said quietly, and then he made himself swallow the spit gathering in his mouth, flinching at the feeling. Dean smiled a little at him and grabbed his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the knuckles while he replied.

"I know Sammy. If I could I'd give you my throat and take yours. Relieve you of the pain." He lifted Sam's hand up to his mouth and kissed the palm lightly. He dropped Sam's hand and stood from his kneeling position in front of the younger boy. Dean then brushed some of Sam's brown hair away from his eyes.

"I'm going to run to the gas station right across the street, see if they have anything cold for your throat, kay? I'll be right back; I won't go anywhere but there and back." Sam gave a nod before closing his eyes and wrapping the blanket tighter around him. A few minutes after Dean left the motel room, he pushed the blanket off, his body wouldn't decide if he was hot or cold. Great, a fever too.

Dean took all the money their dad left them, a whopping 47 dollars. He jogged across the street and entered the door. There were only four people in the store. The clerk, a larger lady with greying hair, smiled at him when he entered. A man on his phone walking out the door, now only three, plus himself so four. There was a man with grey hair, who seemed to be in his late forties, and the last person was a young female teenager, probably around sixteen. He smiled tightly at the clerk before walking to the refrigerated section of the store.

He grabbed three bottles of cold water, a small container of cookies and cream ice cream, and the last pack of all red popsicles. He set them on the side of the counter before looking around to see if they had any soup.

_Bingo!_

In the back corner there were multiple cans of soup, so Dean just went with the chicken noodle. Five cans of chicken noodle actually… He stacked them up beside the other items before he went into the little medicine section. He looked through the little section before going with mint flavored throat drops, a bottle of Advil, a bottle of Tylenol, and some chewy vitamins. He didn't know what he was going to do with half of those things, but better safe than sorry. He put all that beside the other stuff, looking around the convenient store before mentally nodding to himself, this was all he needed.

"You've got a large load there. Are you ready to check out?" The nice woman behind the register asked him. He nodded his head, then pushed it into the middle of the counter.

"You don't happen to have any bowls here do you?" He asked her. He needed to put the soup in _something. _

"Sorry son, we don't carry those here." She replied, scanning one of the soup cans then pressing a few buttons.

"Can you warm that soup up still in the can in a microwave?" Dean asked.

"Don't you have any bowls at home?" She asked, suddenly concerned.

Dean's eyes widened slightly before telling her, "We're staying at the motel across the street for a while, and I'd rather not leave my brother alone for however long it takes to go to the grocery store to buy some bowls."

"Is that who this stuff is for? Is he sick?" She asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

"Yes ma'am, I think he has strep throat." Dean said, he usually wasn't this open with strangers but this lady seemed very nice. Kind of like a mom…

"Chuck!" The woman yelled to the grey haired man. He looked up from the paper he was reading and came over to the two of them. He looked at her questionably but she just turned back to Dean.

"Chuck's a doctor, he keeps some of his equipment in his car, he'll take a look at your brother." She told him.

Dean shook his head quickly and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. This is defiantly the most he's ever opened up to someone besides Sam.

"Why not?" She asked, she sure likes to ask questions…

"We, umm, we don't have enough money to pay a doctor." He said slowly.

"Nonsense! Chuck will do it for free! Won't you Chuck?" She finally turned to the older man. He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head, clearly amused.

"'Course I'll do it Maggie, I'll even bring him a bowl over later." Chuck chuckled. He looked at the slightly younger woman with admiration, he didn't have a clue how someone could be so caring.

"Thank you Chuck! The coffee's on me for the next two days. Now your total is thirty six dollars and seven cents. I would just let you have it but my boss scares me." Dean got the right amount of money out and grabbed the two bags full of different items off the counter.

"Thank you Maggie." Dean said, grinning at her before he left.

"No problem-?" Maggie trailed off. She cocked her head to the side slightly.

"Dean. My name's Dean Winchester." He answered her unspoken question. He knew he should be more cautious around these two, Chuck and Maggie, but it felt good to just relax for once. He left the store, waited patiently for Chuck to get his brief case full of some doctor things out of his car, and then he and Chuck walked across the street to the motel. He unlocked the room and shut the door behind Chuck.

"Dean?" A weak voice called out. Dean dropped the bags he was holding instantly and rushed to the small couch. He dropped to his knees in front of Sam. He took the smaller hand into his.

"I'm here Sammy. Don't worry baby boy. I brought somebody who's going to help you get better." Dean said, "You're going to have to sit up for me though. Can you do that Sammy? Can you sit up for me?" Dean was aware he was treating Sam like a little three year old, but the only thought running through his mind was 'Must heal Sam'.

Sam just nodded and started to sit up. Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's bare waist and straightened him out on the couch. Chuck came into the room, and Dean released Sam's waist, instead he took one of Sam's hands into his own.

TWENTY TWO MINUTES LATER (because I don't know how to explain all those doctor things)

"It's a mild case of strep throat. It seems to be just beginning so it will be easier to treat. Here," Chuck then grabbed two bottles of pills out of his brief case, "make sure he takes two of these every five hours for ten days. Do you have a parent in town or around that I can talk to?" Chuck asked, handing the bottles of pills to Dean. Ibuprofen.

"He's out of town doing business." Dean replied tightly. Chuck took the hint that that was a topic Dean didn't want to talk about.

"Okay, I'll be back in about ten minutes with a bowl for you." Chuck said, and then walked out the door.

"Hey Chuck?" Dean called. Chuck turned around to look at him, showing he was listening. "Could you bring a spoon to?" Chuck laughed and nodded, then walked to his car.

Dean shut the door to the motel room and grabbed the two bags off the floor. _Shit. _Dean forgot about the popsicles and ice cream. He shoved those two items into the freezer, set the medicines on the little table, put the cans of soup beside the medicine, and the waters into the fridge. He went back to the couch where Sam was sitting, reading some weird book about _Law _or something like that. Dean settles on the couch beside his younger brother.

Dean turned on the TV and wiggles a little so he's buried in the couch. His hand finds Sam's again and he threads his fingers through the younger boy's. Sam squeezed his hand back but continued reading his book.

AROUND TWELVE MINUTES LATER

Sam was still reading, but he had moved from his sitting position to a lying down with his head resting on Dean's lap. Dean's fingers were carding through his hair softly, messaging Sam's scalp at moments. Sam let out a moan of content that went straight to Dean's cock. There was a slight knock on the door and Dean yelled

"Come in." He was currently in a very happy mood, chilling on a worn out couch, watching some stupid sic-com, his hands in the man he loves hair. _Wait, what?! _Dean's mind reeled back. What had he just thought?! The man he _loves? _Ha, as a brother, sure, but as, as a- a _lover? _

Instead of that thought sickening Dean, it left a pleasant warm bubbly feeling in his stomach. Dean's mind wandered to these thoughts; Sam going down on him, Dean fucking Sammy senseless, Sam moaning his name, making slow love to Sam, kissing Sam for fun, and Dean wanted to kiss his little brother right then. Wanted to leave a feather light kiss on Sam's pink lips, but Chuck walking into the room stopped him from probably making the worst mistake in his entire life.

Sam would probably hate him afterwards, probably wouldn't ever want to see his face again. Just the thought of Sam turning away from him made Dean stop thinking about loving Sam more than a brother.

CHUCK POVISH THINGY

Chuck did a little double tae when he entered the room. Dean was smiling slightly down at Sam, and Sam was reading but one of his hands was resting on Dean's thigh, caressing it lightly. They did NOT look like brothers right now. Chuck looked a little closer and saw Dean's hands gently running through his younger brother's brown hair.

The look Dean was giving Sam, and Chuck really didn't know if Sam and Dean were really brothers, he knew nothing about Dean, but that look Dean was giving Sam was a look of a man in love.

"Here's a bowl and a spoon, sorry, the wife wouldn't let me bring any more than this." Chuck apologized, before setting the plain white bowl and silver spoon on the table. Dean knew they had a silver spoon in one of their duffle bags their dad left behind, but he didn't want to use one of those.

"It's fine. Thanks Chuck, this means a lot to us." Dean said from his spot of the couch. "I would get up and shake your hand, but…" Dean trailed off awkwardly. Sam began to move, but one of Dean's hands let go of his hair and pushed against his chest, pushing him back down.

"Don't you dare move Sammy." Dean growled, his hand still resting against Sam's chest.

"Well, good bye, oh, keep the bowl." Chuck said, wanting to leave these two "brothers". It looked like Dean was about to jump Sam's bones. And just to prove Chuck's thoughts, Dean licked his lips.

"Goodbye Chuck." Dean said, finally looking up. Dean gave Chuck a tight lipped smile, and Chuck turned around and left.

BACK TO THE NORMAL POVY THINGY

Dean sighed when he heard the door to the hotel close. His hand stayed on Sam's chest while the other started stroking though Sam's hair. Sam let out a little huff, but then sighed contently. He tried to bring his book up again, but Dean's hand was in the way. Instead of just pushing Dean's hand off like a normal brother would do, hell; a normal brother wouldn't have his head resting against their brother's lap, but instead of pushing Dean's hand away, Sam threaded his fingers through Dean's.

"Sammy Sammy Sammy." Dean murmured, his thumb rubbing over the top of Sam's thumb.

"Yeah De?" Sam whispered, this moment felt like it should stay quiet, like a secret between the two.

"Nothing, just love the way your name sounds when it comes from my mouth." Dean replied quietly.

"I love the way it sounds too, De. I just love your voice." Sam whispered, and then began dozing off a little. His throat still hurt like a bitch, but he was happy right now with his brother.

Dean's shoulders tensed, and both his hands stopped moving. Sam didn't mean it like Dean was thinking. Sam only loved his voice because it was the voice that comforted him all his life, not for the reasons Dean was thinking of. But still, Dean really wanted Sam to love his voice for different reasons.

Dean gently lifted Sam's head off his lap, and released his hand. He settled Sam's head against the arm rest, grabbed the bowl and spoon, and walked to the kitchen.

When in the kitchen he poured the soup into the bowl and tuck it into the dirty, ancient microwave that looked like it barely worked.

After the soup was warmed up, maybe a little too warm from the way it boiled over in the microwave and was steaming still a minute later, Dean took it out to Sam, who was tossing and turning on the couch.

"Hey Sam, got some soup here for you." Dean said, kneeling in front of his younger brother.

"Will it help?" Sam croaked, sitting up.

"Hopefully." Dean murmured, sitting on the couch beside Sam, getting a spoonful of soup from the bowl.

He stuck the spoon out to Sam, expecting him to take it, but instead Sam just leaned forward and slurped it off, well, tried to, but it was too hot and it burned his tongue.

"Ouch! De it's hot!" Sam cringed away from the soup. Dean just rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. He then dished out another spoon full and blew on it, cooling it down. He held the spoon out to Sam, who looked at it, distrusting the soup.

Dean sighed and held the spoon to his own mouth, letting his tongue touch the soup gently. Sam watched his every move, his eyes following Dean's tongue and he finally looked away once Dean's mouth had closed.

"See? Not hot." Dean said, and then moved the spoon in front of Sam's face again. Sam inclined his head towards the spoon and sipped it slowly. They continued to do this, Dean blowing on it, tasting it, and then giving it to Sam until the soup was gone.

"Sleep Sammy." Dean murmured as he stood to put the bowl away. Sam yawned, which kind of hurt his throat, before doing what Dean said.

"_I love you Dean." Sam said quietly as he and his older brother lay on the Impala, looking up at the stars. The hand holding his stiffened, but then it relaxed, and squeezed Sam's lightly._

"_Love you, too, Sammy." Dean said, and then rolled over to face the younger boy, leaning on his elbow for support. The hand that wasn't holding Sam's came up and brushed a few strands of brown hair out of Sam's face. It stroked his cheek for a moment, then cupped his chin. _

_Sam smiled slightly and raised his head to brush his lips against Dean's. Dean immediately deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Sam's bottom lip, Sam opening up for him. _

"Dean, please." Sam murmured in his sleep.

"Do you need anything Sammy?" Dean asked quietly. He was still sitting by his brother, his hand lightly moving through his hair.

"Dean." Sam moaned slowly. Dean's eyes widened.

_Holy hell. _

Sam was dreaming, about. Him. His brother. Dean wasn't the only one. He hoped to God that he was right about his little brother's dream or else Sammy would be extremely disgusted in his older brother.

He leant down and pressed his lips against Sam's.

"De…" Sam breathed out against Dean's lips, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I'm here Sammy. I'm here." Dean whispered, smiling at Sam when he opened his eyes.

Sam blushed lightly at being caught on dreaming about Dean, but smiled nonetheless. He sprung of quickly and pressed his lips against Dean's, it was only a light peck, but Sam was happy that he had kissed Dean.

Dean laughed lightly, and pushed Sam back down against the couch, climbing on top of him. He kissed Sam deeper, and when they both pulled back they were each breathing heavily.

Dean kissed around Sam's mouth, his eyes, his nose; he kissed everywhere, and left Sam giggling. Dean began kissing Sam's neck, sucking a small hickey. He bit gently on Sam's collarbone, leaving a teeth mark.

He smiled wickedly at Sam, and Sam squirmed nervously.

"Settle down Sammy. Let me take care of you." He whispered, before leaning towards Sam for a kiss again.

TWO DAYS LATER

"Ugh. Sammmyyyy, is the soup done yet?" Dean complained, his voice hoarse.

"I'm coming Dean, I'm coming." Sam laughed, mirth dancing in his eyes. He tried to give Dean the steaming soup, but he stubbornly refused the soup.

"You have to feed me like I fed you." Dean glared. Sam smiled and pressed a kiss against Dean's forhead. "It's all your fault I'm like this."

"_You_ were the one who kissed _me, _so it's actually your fault." Sam chuckled.

"Yea, but I'm glad I did." Dean sighed.

"So am I, Dean. So am I…"

THE END!


End file.
